The Son Never Shines
by CorpseCompassion
Summary: Hiei watches little kids. Oh, dear.


The Son Never Shines

_**One Shot**_

**Hiei**

_**_____________________________________________________________________________________**_

I saw her there from afar

Her hair grey charcoal

Takes a drag from her tar

I kissed her a smile

But her blood red shot eye

Said the son never shines on closed doors

It's been eight long years

since I saw The woman who's labored

Since the day I was born

These wrinkles now face

To that cold dark damp place

Where the son never shines on closed doors

She said the son never shines on closed doors

I open to find only hurricanes blow

Take me away back to the green fields of May

Because the son never shines on closed doors

Death comes like a thief in the night

To steal while you sleep

The soul's flickering light

Well maybe it's then She said, I'll see you again

Because the son never shines on closed doors

_**-Flogging Molly**_

_**_____________________________________________________________________________________**_

It's is something even the most compassionate of people, if not by nature than society's hand, take for granted. As much as bitterness filled most of his existence, he could not deny that something so subtle and expected would effortlessly be over looked. However, the fire apparition felt- or maybe he just liked to think- had he been given the chance that everyone else got at birth, he'd have cherished every single tiny, unnoticed touch. The cold, smooth, utterly comforting hand so rightly placed a top his head to show reassurance. The soft silk that was the gorgeous locks of her people to rest on his shoulders as she managed his less elegant mop.

All things he had been denied- nay, robbed of, he witnessed children struggle against. Children eventually wanted to brush their own hair, and soon became scornful when their loving parent attempted affection in public. It was a possibility that Hiei too might have done the same. Yet, he had yet experience such actions and therefore had not grown tired of it. The relatively young demon was bitter- yes, but he wasn't whining about such things. It did not constantly eat at his soul to see these acts of rebellion.

But, ever so often when he caught it out of the corner of his ruby eyes, or when cloud watching allowed his mind to wander- he mused on what it would be like to have a mother. To have been given a chance. Though he never would admit it out loud- he was something to be looked down upon.

True, Hiei was confident in his abilities, in his power and skill. A formidable opponent by any one's standards, he was bluntly a living legend. To climb from the wreckage of banishment, to cheat death and start on the smallest social scale. To claw his way to the top ranks was something to command respect. But he still would always carry the scar and hard truth of being shunned. Even the most successful person will be given special treatment when he brings he own sob story. Hiei's pride could not take that.

Her face was fresh in his mind, she possessed grey hair from her people and rather than age, and displayed such wide innocent eyes. Eyes he could only faintly recall completely filled with tears. Did his Father look into those eyes, and see happiness? Did the man make her smile, and were her smiles just like the gentle one of his beloved sister?

Unanswered questions left a hole in his heart. And therefore did not allow him to turn completely cold to the world. Not when this fire was burning so haughty inside him. Figuratively a display of the intense passion, over whelmed in his chest, and burning overpoweringly as it poured out his eyes, creating a piercing and unmatched gaze. And, literally as the heat constantly and always hummed inside him, forever a few more degrees above everyone else, and a testament to his Father.

Had his mother wanted him? Oh what, oh what would it had been like to grow up with a family. To never have learned to sleep with one eye open or be able to treat a stab wound at eight. Who knew. But two things he was certain of. First, Yukina had grown into a pleasant young lady and therefore the situation couldn't have been comparable to his.

And secondly, that as sure as the fire burned in his heart and in his body, it warmed his skin. He had not grown up with a window, but a crack- but a crack let in enough light for him to forgive those dismissive children. And his own, mysterious mother.

**_______________________________________________________________________________________**

**_A/N: _**I always did love the little fire demon, and this was simply me toying around with his thoughts.


End file.
